Life is an Open Book: Sorcerer's Stone
by substitutingrealitywithmyown
Summary: Hey this is my stab at the 'reading the books' genre of fanfiction. Please enjoy, will have slower updates because I'm concentrating on my other stories. Enjoy. Rated T for swearing.


**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters from _Harry Potter_ are the property of JK Rowling, I made up Michael Potter. Just having some fun with the_Harry Potter_ world. Enjoy.**

"ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS AND FACULTY, YOU ARE TO REPORT TO THE GREAT HALL AT ONCE," a loud voice bellowed out over the Hogwarts PA system.

"What could that be about?" Harry Potter asked his best friend Hermione Granger as the pair made their way down to the Great Hall from Ravenclaw Tower.

"I don't know. But I don't think it's a good thing. That was Umbridge's voice, and she sounded happy," Hermione said. Harry shivered, if the toad was happy, then something very bad was about to happen.

And Harry's premonition turned out to be correct as when he and Hermione entered the Great Hall, Harry saw several people that he didn't particularly like, scratch that, he held a burning disdain for.

Seated at the Staff table was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, along with his Auror bodyguards. Next to the Minister were Harry's parents, James and Lily Potter, though Harry used the term 'parents' lightly. They had all but abandoned him after his brother, Michael, had defeated Voldemort that fated Halloween nearly fifteen years ago. James was an Auror Captain and Lily was the Potions and Charms assistant at Hogwarts.

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were seated beside the Potters as well; Harry didn't despise them, however he didn't care for them either. They too had gotten caught up in Michael's fame and eventually forgot about Harry.

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand as she noticed that several of the plates and goblets on the table began to shake, as Harry struggled to clamp down on his escaping magic. Luckily, nobody noticed.

"Good, now that we are all here, we can begin," Umbridge simpered. "Over the Christmas holidays, I received a very curious package of four books along with a note. The note said that I was to read these books at Hogwarts, in which several lies would be discovered and made public." She turned to Dumbledore and the Potters and sneered. "And I invited the Minister as well as these others so that there would be no denying it. So we shall begin with the first book, **Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone**."

"What the!" a red haired boy cried from the Gryffindor table. It was Michael Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Gryffindor Golden Boy, the hero of the wizarding world. "Why does it only say Potter, it should say Michael Potter."

"Who knows, but at least at the end of this everyone will know how awesome you are Michael," Ron Weasley, Michael's best friend' said loudly.

"You're right Ron."

"**Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived,**" Umbridge began.

"All right, I get the first chapter all to myself," Michael cried from the Gryffindor table. Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes.

**Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.**

"You're welcome," Fred said.

"Why are we hearing about my sister and her husband?" Lily asked. "What's going on?"

**They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.**

** Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in hand as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.**

"Wait, there was a time when Dudley was considered small or fine?" Harry asked. Several heads turned toward him, though Harry ignored them.

**The Dursleys had everything they want, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.**

"Oi!" James and Michael cried out.

**Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended that she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had two small sons, too, but they had never even seen them. The boys were another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with children like that.**

"What does that mean, _a child like that_," Hermione asked Harry softly. Harry looked down at the table.

"I'm sure you'll find out," he muttered.

"As if I'd want to mix with a Muggle like that," Michael sneered.

**When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair**

"Quite plain these Muggles, aren't they Gred?"

"Yes they are Forge, something must be done about that."

**None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.**

"Why not?" a Ravenclaw second-year called out.

"Because most Muggles never see an owl, let alone one during the day," Hermione answered.

**At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.**

"That boy has no manners," Madam Pomprey scowled.

**"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.**

** It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen – then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light.**

Harry looked up at the Staff table, his gaze narrowing in on the Transfiguration professor, Minerva McGonagall. '_She was there, wasn't she?'_ Harry thought.

**Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive – no, **_**looking**_** at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.**

"Unless they're Animagi," a Ravenclaw called out. "They retain their humans minds when they transform."

"Ten points to Ravenclaw," McGonagall said, her lips twitching.

**Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he though of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.**

** But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes – the getups you saw on young people!**

"Why would he think this was weird?" a student asked.

"Muggles don't wear cloaks anymore, haven't for nearly a century," Hermione answered. Several comments were heard from the Slytherin table.

**He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him!**

"Quite right, he should have worn a purple cloak," Fred cried out. "The scoundrel for wearing emerald."

Most of the Slytherins glared at the Weasley boy, their house colors were silver and _emerald_.

**But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt – these people were obviously collecting for something…yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.**

** Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. **_**He**_** didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime.**

Hermione nodded smugly as this.

**Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted some more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk…**

"Excuse me, did it just say that he walked somewhere, voluntarily!" Harry said.

**The road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.**

"Oh, never mind then," Harry said. Again several people looked over at him with confused expressions but he just ignored them.

**He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy.**

"The feeling was probably mutual," Draco sneered. "Filthy Muggle."

**This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.**

** "The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard –"**

** "—yes, their son, Michael –"**

Michael stood up on the bench and waved, smiling smugly.

"Sit down!" Umbridge snapped.

**Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whispered as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.**

** He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid.**

"That's not hard," Harry muttered. Hermione put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed while several people who had heard him looked at the pair with questioning eyes, including several of the professors.

**Potter wasn't such an unusual name.**

"Actually in the magical world, Potter is a pretty uncommon name," James Potter said. "There are only three 'true' Potters left; me, Lily and Michael."

Harry sneered up at the staff table, his eyes fixed on James and Lily. Hermione put her arm around Harry and leaned her head on his shoulder while shooting hateful looks up at the Potters.

_'Who cares, the Potters were nothing but blood traitors,'_ Umbridge sneered. _'A pureblood like James Potter marrying a Mudblood. And their brat of a son!'_

**He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Michael. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure what his nephews **_**were**_** called. **

"What!" Hermione hissed. "He doesn't even know your name?"

"He does now," Harry whispered.

Several people scooted back from the enraged brunette.

** He'd never seen the boys. It might have been Matthew and Harvey. Or Harold and Mathias.**

"You got lucky mate," Ron's voice could be heard from the Gryffindor table. "Matthew, or Mathias Potter, man that would have weird."

"Why does the book say that there are two Potter boys?" a Ravenclaw first year asked.

"It's wrong!" Michael snapped. "I'm the only Potter beside my parents."

"But the book said that everything in it was true," a Slytherin said.

"Shut up, you filthy snake!" Ron shouted.

"Detention Weasley," Professor Snape barked. "And twenty points from Gryffindor."

"What for?" Ron continued.

"For insulting a student and for these continuing interruptions," Snape said silkily. Several of the professors glared at Snape, he was being a hypocrite as many of Snape's house would do the same but yet Snape would do nothing.

"Oh please Snape, what about Malfoy and his cronies?" Harry spoke up. "They can get away with calling the 1st generation magicals _that_ word and you do nothing."

"Potter, silence yourself!" Snape snarled.

"Can't take your own medicine can you Snape?" Harry challenged. "You and Malfoy and all the pureblood bigots can throw insults out like they're nothing but when someone stands up to you and calls you a name, you immediately get angry. You're pathetic, almost as pathetic as Golden Boy over there."

Michael, Ron and several of the Gryffindors shot up from their seats in outrage, as did James and Sirius. Lily and Remus looked on disapprovingly.

"What do you know, you bird brain," Michael shouted.

"Bravery without brains just means you're a fool who rushes into danger without a thought or care in the world," Harry said. "Sounds familiar doesn't it?"

"Enough of this bickering," Umbridge cried. Michael and his friends continued to glare at the Ravenclaw table but Umbridge plowed on reading.

** There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her – if **_**he'd**_** had a sister like that… but all the same, those people in cloaks…**

"Vernon, I wouldn't talk with the sister you have," Harry said. This caused more people to look over at him, but he ignored the looks.

**He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.**

** "Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled, and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face spilt into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passerby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"**

"Filius, was that you?" Minerva asked. The head of Ravenclaw blushed and nodded, eliciting several sniggers from staff and student alike.

**And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.**

"He could get his arms around the great oaf, how?" Harry wondered out loud.

**Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.**

"NO!" the Weasley twins wailed. "Please, a moment of silence in remembrance of our fallen comrade, imagination."

The Great Hall filled with laughter at the twins' antics; even several of the professors had amused looks.

**As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw – and it didn't improve his mood – was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning.**

_'She was still there,'_ Harry thought, looking up at Professor McGonagall. _'Why?'_

**It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same marking around its eyes.**

** "Shoo," said Mr. Dursley loudly.**

** The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.**

"NO! Not the stern look," George cried. McGonagall turned glare on him, and he fell silent, much to the amusement of his brother.

**Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.**

** Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:**

** "And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly** **ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping patterns." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"**

** "Well Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've been had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early – it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."**

** Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…**

** Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er – Petunia, dear – you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"**

** As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.**

Lily looked down at the table.

** "No," she said sharply. "Why?"**

** "Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls…shooting stars…and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"**

** "**_**So?**_**" snapped Mrs. Dursley.**

** "Well, I just thought…maybe…it was something to do with…you know…**_**her **_**crowd."**

The Hall bristled. "What does she mean _her crowd_?" Hermione hissed.

"Anyone that isn't them," Harry answered softly.

_'Filthy muggles,'_ Umbridge snarled.

**Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea though pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their sons – they'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't they be?" **

** "I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.**

** "What are their names again? Howard and Matthew, aren't they?"**

Harry felt Hermione bristle next to him. "He better know your name by now? He does, doesn't he?" she asked.

"I think so," Harry whispered, but Hermione heard him and so did several others.

**"Harry and Michael. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."**

"Michael is a great name!" Ginny Weasley, Michael's girlfriend and Ron's little sister, snapped from beside Michael.

"Who's this 'Harry' the Muggles keep talking about?" a Hufflepuff third year asked. "I thought that Michael didn't have a brother."

"I don't," Michael sneered.

"He doesn't," Harry growled.

Many students looked between the two boys.

**"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."**

** He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as through it were waiting for something.**

** Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did…if it got out that they were related to a pair of – well, he didn't think he could bear it.**

"Oh yes Vernon, like being related to you is any walk in the park," Harry snarled under his breath. Hermione put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into an embrace.

**The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters **_**were**_** involved, there were no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind…**

"_Their kind?_" Professor Sprout snapped. "What does he mean by that?"

"Witches and Wizards, he's pretty much the same as a pureblood bigot as a muggle," Harry said.

"Don't you compare me to that Muggle!" Malfoy cried.

"Oh so you admit that you're a pureblood bigot then, though it wasn't hard to realize that," Harry snarked. Several people laughed, the Weasley twins the hardest. "And why not, you think anyone who isn't a _pureblood_ is beneath you, he thinks that anyone who isn't perfectly like him, is beneath him as well."

McGonagall's lips quirked as Harry sat down.

**He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on – he yawned and turned over – it couldn't **_**them**_**…**

** How very wrong he was.**

** Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.**

"Three Galleons that it's McGonagall," Sirius said to Remus.

"That's a fool's bet Sirius," Remus said as the aforementioned Professor glared at her two former students.

"Oh, you're no fun Moony," Sirius said.

** A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.**

** Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt.**

"Dumbledore," Harry growled. Hermione gave him a light squeeze, while several others look at Harry in confusion at the venom in which Harry said the Headmaster's name.

**He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.**

The Great Hall erupted in cheers at the appearance of the beloved Headmaster, though Fudge and Umbridge sneered at those cheering. Dumbledore smiled down at the students.

**Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.**

"Oh I knew, I just didn't care," Dumbledore said jovially.

"That's for sure, you don't care," Harry whispered though only Hermione heard him.

**He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."**

** He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.**

"Cool sir," Fred and George said. "I want one."

"Apologized Mr. and Mr. Weasley, but it's unique," Dumbledore said.

"Oh," the twins whined.

"SILENCE!" Umbridge cried.

**He clicked it again – the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only light left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance.**

"It's called the Deluminator," Dumbledore announced.

**Which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.**

** "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."**

"I knew it! It was Minnie," Sirius shouted.

"Padfoot, no one disagreed with you," Remus sighed.

"What were you doing in a Muggle neighborhood Professor," a Gryffindor first year asked.

"I'm sure it will be explained in the book," McGonagall said, trying not to look at Harry, who was staring up at her.

**He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one.**

"NO, not the emerald!" George shouted to several snickers, as well as glares.

**Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.**

** "How did you know it was me?" she asked.**

** "My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."**

** "You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.**

** "All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."**

** Professor McGonagall's angrily.**

** "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no – even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls…shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid.**

"What does that mean Professor?" a muggle-born Hufflepuff third year asked.

"I meant that they were bound to notice something with all that was going on," McGonagall said quickly.

"She doesn't mean all Muggles by that," Harry said. "Only the Dursleys, they're that stupid."

Many people looked at Harry. _What did he mean by that?_ Several Professors also looked at Harry with concern, Dumbledore frowned. _'Harry shouldn't be talking about his family like this. What's going on?'_

_'Why is that boy talking about the Dursleys' like that?'_ Lily thought. _'And why does he look like James but have my eyes.'_

Umbridge cut off any muttering by continuing reading.

"**They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."**

** "You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."**

** "I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the street in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."**

** She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really **_**has**_** gone, Dumbledore?"**

Many people cheered as Michael stood up and preened. Harry and Hermione glowered at the boy who was soaking up the attention.

**"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"**

"A what?" several purebloods asked.

**"A **_**what**_**?"**

** "A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."**

** "No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops.**

"My dear Minerva, there is always time for lemon drops," Dumbledore said. McGonagall rolled his eyes and shook her head.

**"As I say, even if You-Know-Who **_**has**_** gone –"**

** "My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense – for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: **_**Voldemort**_**."**

"Holy Merlin, did the toad just say the name?" Harry cried. "And Headmaster, that's not his proper name."

"Excuse me Harry," Dumbledore said.

"If you want to call Voldemort by his proper name, call him Tom Riddle, since that's his birth name," Harry said sharply. "Seems that you were just adding to the fear as well, weren't you Professor?"

Many eyes widened at Harry's attitude and condescending tone.

"How do you know that?" Michael cried.

"You don't know Mike, you were there," Harry sneered.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Mr. Potter, you show the Headmaster respect," McGonagall snapped.

"I show respect to those who show me respect," Harry said shortly.

"How dare you think that the Dark Lord would have such a common name?" Malfoy cried from the Slytherin table.

"I don't think, I know, that's the bastard's given name Malfoy, why don't you ask your father, I mean with all the time he's spent bowing at Riddle's feet, you would think he'd know," Harry said.

"Potter!" Fudge roared. "I won't have you demean Mr. Malfoy's name."

"Oh so, I can't but you can tell the Prophet to say whatever you want about me," Harry snarled. "You forget Fudge, that names can be a powerful weapon. One that I intend to use when the time comes."

"What the hell does that mean?" Michael cried. "You don't have any name

"Are you threatening me, the Minister of Magic?" Fudge sneered.

"No, that's not a threat," Harry said. "It's a promise!"

Fudge's eyes widened as he met Harry's gaze. "Please continue Madam Umbridge."

**Professor flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."**

"Then why don't you say it Professor?" Harry said. "Oh and Umbridge said Voldemort again, why are all you flinching? It's just a made up name!"

**"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the one You-Know- oh, all right, **_**Voldemort**_**, was frightened of."**

"Then why does he keep coming after me?" Harry muttered. Hermione put her head on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

"What about me?" Michael shouted out. "You-Know-Who is afraid of me, that's why he's tried to kill me? He feared my powers."

Harry bit his cheek so hard that it started bleeding to keep from laughing. "If he's afraid of you, then you should be able to say his name right? I mean Michael Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, can't be afraid to say a measly name?"

"Shut up you worthless freak, don't you dare call me a coward," Michael roared. "I don't have to prove anything to you."

"Michael's right, he's the Boy-Who-Lived," Ginny screeched. "He's the bravest person there is."

"Then why can't he say the name?" Harry asked quietly. "Have you ever said the name?"

Everyone turned toward the Gryffindor table. Michael blanched as he saw this.

"Well, we're waiting," Harry said.

"Enough, my son doesn't have to prove anything to anyone," James Potter roared. "Least of all you!" he finished with a sneer, directed at Harry, who just looked back with a smug expression on his face.

"And here I thought the Potters and Malfoys were different," Harry said. "But I guess I was wrong. Both sons need their fathers to fight their battles for them."

Hermione stifled a laugh. James looked ready to pull his wand, as did Michael but a calm hand on the arm from Lily, and a sharp look from Dumbledore had them both sit back down.

**"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."**

"Again Umbridge says the fake name," Harry tallied. Umbridge sneered down at Harry but didn't say anything.

**"Only because you're too – well – **_**noble**_** to use them."**

Harry rolled his eyes. "He's too noble to do anything but let others do his dirty work," he muttered. Hermione heard him and narrowed her eyes.

**"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."**

Several students groaned at this. "Way too much information Professor," George said, his face slightly green. Umbridge scowled at the boy before turning back to the book.

**Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the **_**rumors**_** that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"**

** It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.**

** "What they're **_**saying**_**," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters**. **They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Michael. But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Michael Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone."**

** Dumbledore nodded glumly.**

** "It's – it's **_**true**_**?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done…all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding…of all the things to stop him…but how in the name of heaven did Michael survive?"**

** "We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."**

"It's because of my magical power, he couldn't keep up," Michael shouted, beating his chest.

"Rubbish, a fifteen-month old baby having more magical power than the most powerful Dark wizard of all time," Harry muttered. Many Ravenclaws nodded their heads, they were the house of the brainy after all.

**Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge.**

"Cool," Fred said.

**It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"**

** "Yes," said Professor Dumbledore. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me **_**why**_** you're here, of all places?"**

** "I've come to bring Michael's brother, Harry to his aunt and uncle. He's a squib, and it would be cruel to have him live surrounded by magic when he can't access it himself."**

"Yeah, and that turned out perfectly didn't Dumbledore?" Harry growled. "I'm here aren't I?"

"WHAT!" Lily roared. "You told us that Harry died that night?"

Harry's head shot to the head table. He had been under the impression that his parents had abandoned him after that night. But from Lily's expression, as well as the paling of James' face, Harry realized that they thought he was dead instead. James and Lily turned to face Harry, and when their eyes met, several emotions shone in the twin pairs of emerald and single pair of hazel eyes; disbelief, despair and love.

**"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."**

"A LETTER!" Harry roared, his voice filling the whole Great Hall. "You just wrote a letter! Did you really think that those people would tell me anything? They hate magic and anything to do with magic."

**"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! There will be books written about Michael – every child in our world will know his name!"**

**"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off Harry will be, growing up away from all that? If not, he'd become jealous and angry!"**

**Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed and then said, "Yes – yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.**

** "Hagrid's bringing him."**

** "You think it – **_**wise**_** – to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"**

**"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.**

** "I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to – what was that?"**

** A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.**

** If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so **_**wild**_** – long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.**

**"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"**

** "Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."**

"You took my bike?" Sirius asked Hagrid, who blushed and looked down.

** "No problems, were there?"**

** "No, sir – house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' the around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."**

**Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lighting.**

**"What's that?" asked Professor McGonagall.**

** "A cut from some falling debris," answered Dumbledore. Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.**

** "Could I – could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.**

"Hey, I take exception to that comment," Sirius cried out.

"No, you resemble that remark Padfoot," Remus said to several chuckles, and Sirius pouting.

**"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. **

** "Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor Dumbledore McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. **

"YOU LEFT MY SON ON THE DOORSTEP, ALONE, IN NOVEMBER!" Lily screamed, leaping to her feet. "HOW DARE YOU, YOU SELF-SERVING BASTARD!"

The Hall fell silent. No one had ever seen anyone stand up to Dumbledore, let alone call him a bastard, though no one could blame after what they had just read. Sirius and Remus were struggling to keep James in his seat.

"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, IF ANYTHING HAPPENED TO MY SON WHILE HE WAS IN THE _CARE_ OF MY SISTER, I WILL CASTRATE YOU AND SHOVE THEM DOWN YOUR THROAT!" Lily roared, her eyes flashing.

Most of the Hall turned green at the threat, they really didn't want to hear about _that_. Harry was looking up at the Potters

** For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously. Dumbledore just stood, silent and stoic.**

** "Well, said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."**

"Yes, let's all go to a party, while I'm sitting on a doorstep in November," Harry grumbled. He blinked. "How emo did that just sound?" he asked Hermione, who giggled and nodded.

"Quite a bit yes."

Harry dropped his head onto the Ravenclaw table with a thud. Hermione and several others laughed. Lily and James smiled, though they were sad smiles.

** "Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'd best get this bike away. G'night Professor McGonagall – Professor Dumbledore, sir."**

** Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.**

** "I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.**

** Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.**

**A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on.**

"Awww," Hermione cooed, leaning up against Harry. "You were such a cute baby."

"Oi! And I'm not cute now?" he asked.

"No," Hermione said. "Now you're extremely handsome," she whispered with a faint blush that also appeared on Harry's cheeks.

**Not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley… He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voice: "To Michael Potter – the boy who lived!"**

"That's the end of the chapter," Umbridge said. "Who would like to read first?"

"Actually Delores, I think we should take a short break," McGonagall said, eyeing Dumbledore. "I'm sure that some people have many things to discuss."

Lily and James nodded.

"Harry, would you mind joining us in the anteroom?" Lily asked almost fearfully. Harry looked at her, his emerald eyes piercing right through her it seemed. But then he nodded and stood.

"Michael, you too," James called. Michael stood from the Gryffindor table and made his way up to the Staff table. The Hall watched as the Potters and Harry vanished into a room off the Hall.

Now every eye turned to pin the Headmaster, who was looking quite disheveled. "Albus Dumbledore," McGonagall whispered, though her voice carried throughout the Hall clear as if she had shouted. "Care to tell me why, James and Lily thought that their son was dead?"

**A/N: Hey everyone, welcome to my newest story. As you can probably tell, this is a 'reading the books' story, though with quite a twist. I don't think I've ever seen a wrong BWL 'reading the books' story, I've seen a couple of Harry has a sibling or relative that lives with him at the Dursleys, but I thought I'd try this idea out. This story will probably be on the back burner, as I'm still working on _Underneath the Underneath, Shadow War and Rebirth of the Whirlpool. _I know I said that they're my priority, and they are but for some reason, _Rebirth _and _Shadow War_ have decided to run off and elope, I'm still getting letters from them, but it's slow going. _Underneath_ should be up this week.**

**Please read and review,**

**Thanks,**

**Phoenixflame**


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